Page 5 of Murder on Harley Street
“I did ask him, and you’re right. He wasn’t interested. I just don’t know how to tell Sir Ronald in a way that will cause the least offence.”
“I’m quite sure that whatever you say will be less offensive than what I say. You’re diplomatic, whereas I can be too blunt, particularly when speaking to my uncle.”
He watched as John welcomed Uncle Ronald into the lift. “Sometimes bluntness is best. Sir Ronald appreciates forthrightness.”
“We’ll think of a way to manage him,” I said. “Has Harry telephoned asking for me? Is that why you needed to speak to me?” Sometimes Harry would place a call to his uncle’s office directly from his own office, although he kept such calls to a minimum. They were rarely necessary anyway, since Harry and I saw each other quite a lot lately and were able to say what we needed to say in person.
Mr. Hobart looked worried. “He asked me to ask you to meet him at the medical rooms of Lady Bainbridge’s former doctor as soon as possible, if you have the time.”
“I do, but why does he want to meet me there?”
“Apparently he needs your expertise as both an investigator and as someone who knows that particular doctor. He hired Harry today, and Harry wants your opinion on the doctor’s trustworthiness.”
As far as I knew, Mr. Hobart didn’t know Aunt Lilian was addicted to the cocaine in the tonic that doctor prescribed, but he did know that her health had not improved while she was his patient. “I’ll go now. What has he hired Harry to investigate?”
“He wants Harry to prove him innocent of the murder of a patient.”
Chapter2
Iwas rather glad the victim’s body had been removed from the crime scene by the time I arrived. Despite solving several murder cases, I’d not seen many of the bodies, and apparently the effects of electrocution were more gruesome than most people expected. Discovering the patient died by electrocution in a doctor’s consulting room was somewhat of a surprise at first, until Harry explained that she’d been receiving electric shocks from the Electro Therapy Machine. The device was supposed to send mild currents through her system, but something had gone wrong in that morning’s session, and a much stronger current had been given.
We stood in the room with Detective Sergeant Forrester, a man I’d worked alongside on previous occasions. He was relatively young and good at his job, but, most importantly, he had an open mind. Like us, he was keen to uncover the truth. He’d recently taken to calling me Cleo and insisted I call him Monty, something that had been noted by several friends, including Harry. While it wasn’t unusual for men and women to call one another by their first names, it sometimes signaled they weremorethan friends. I suspected in D.S. Forrester’s case, that was his hope.
Apparently he’d planned to leave the scene some time ago, but stayed when Harry said he’d telephoned me. In the meantime, Dr. Iverson had been taken to Scotland Yard for questioning, while the two other staff working at the consulting suite—his nurse and receptionist—had been sent home. D.S. Forrester had already questioned them, collected enough evidence to satisfy himself that Dr. Iverson needed further interrogation, and was merely extending Harry the professional courtesy of letting him look around before locking up the crime scene. As a friend and former colleague of Harry’s father, a retired detective inspector, D.S. Forrester was willing to make such a concession.
I studied the contents of the wooden box positioned beside a daybed. The industrial-looking device with its wires, brass cylinders and knobs seemed out of place in the otherwise calming room with its tall potted palm in the corner, daybed covered with luxurious maroon velvet and soft leather armchairs.
“Don’t touch it,” Harry said. “While it should be safe now, I’d prefer you not to test it.”
“What does it cure?” I asked, straightening.
I’d addressed my question to Harry, but it was D.S. Forrester who answered. “It improves circulation of the blood and the function of the organs.”
“Apparently,” Harry added.
“You don’t believe it works?” I asked him.
“I telephoned Dr. Garside after learning the victim had died while using this contraption, and he doesn’t think it’s effective. Although some medical professionals swear electro-therapeutic shocks can help cure all manner of conditions, there’s little evidence to support their claims. Dr. Garside says he wouldn’t personally recommend their use.”
D.S. Forrester cleared his throat. “Aren’t you on Dr. Iverson’s side, Armitage?”
“I was hired to prove him innocent, not to prove the efficacy of his treatments.”
D.S. Forrester removed his notebook from his jacket pocket and began to flip pages. “You’re wasting your time. He had means, motive and opportunity. He’s probably guilty.”
“Then our investigation will prove it, and I’ll not receive a penny from my client.”
At the mention of ‘our’ investigation, D.S. Forrester looked up from his notebook. His gaze flicked between Harry and me and his lips thinned before he returned to reading his notes.
Harry continued. “The fact that Iverson hired me would suggest he’s innocent.”
“Or it could be a ruse to make himselfappearthat way.” D.S. Forrester sounded a little terse.
While Harry agreed that was a possibility, I did not. “If Dr. Iverson hired a private detective purely as a ruse, he wouldn’t have chosen Harry. He’s been in the newspaper quite a lot these last few months thanks to solving several cases, some of them rather high profile.”
D.S. Forrester pointed his notebook at me. “Thanks toyou, you mean, Cleo. We knowyousolved them.”
“I couldn’t have done it without Harry. We’re a team.”
